Million Dollar Murder
by donielle nash
Summary: Isabella Swan is struggling journalist, and Edward Mansen is a millionaire who's wife was just murdered. Put together A murderer, a pregnancy, and an ancy butler and you've got one hell of a story. AH
1. Chapter 1

_A/n: another random thought. Hope you like._

**Edward**

_**Crazed Millionaire on the Prowl**_

_About three weeks ago, Kelsey Mansen 28, was found dead in her Victorian style mansion off the coast of California. _

_Kelsey's husband, Millionaire Edward Mansen, claimed to be out of the house when his wife was gunned down._

_This is why he is now the #1 suspect in this shocking investigation……_

I stopped reading then. I couldn't bring myself to endure these accusations any longer. This was the fourth article this month and the writer was always the same. _Isabella Swan._ She accused me in every piece she'd written since Kelsey's death, and I could take it no longer. I hated her-I hated her with a hatred that turned my life to gall, and my obsession with her shocked me. Ever since her first article was written, I couldn't keep my mind away from her. Why was she attacking me so horridly?

I never gave the statement on my whereabouts. I didn't want to. Why should the public have a right to know my privacy? It defeats the purpose of anonymity. Being one of the youngest millionaires of my generation generally put me in the lime light. And even though I refused to talk to reporters, they always found a story tell.

Reporters surround my house daily and I've had to hire security just to insure my privacy. People are skeptical that no photos have been taken of me in mourning, but there's a simple reason for that. I'm _not_ mourning. Which may be why I'm the 1 suspect in this entire thing. I mean, I did love Kelsey. She was a brilliant woman. But a deceitful woman at that. She'd carried on an affair since the start of this marriage, and it made me wonder why she'd agreed to it at all. The obvious reason would be my money, but she had her own. She was a millionaire too, though not as wealthy as me, she didn't need to gold dig. Was it for my looks? I highly doubted that thought also. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, and could pull any man she wanted. I suppose the reason behind her acceptance to my proposal was buried alongside her body yesterday.

The entire funeral was crowded with her friends, family and lets not forget…._Rick, _her lover. She believed I remained oblivious to this, but I knew the truth. I never spoke a word of the pain she caused me, because I didn't want her to leave. True, our love did dissipate over time, but she was the only woman who wouldn't want me because of my money. I certainly didn't want to be alone, that was out of the question.

I took a deep breath and looked back down at the newspaper in front of me. _Crazed Millionaire on the Prowl._ Yes, it was true. I hated Isabella Swan with every fiber of my being.

**Bella**

_Crazed Millionaire on the Prowl_

I stared at the title in disgust. I hated trashing this man I didn't know, but it was the only way to keep me afloat. My cutting words was what was saving my job and keeping my rent paid. But after writing four articles accusing Edward Mansen of murder, I became angry. I was only writing off of assumption and what I needed was cold hard facts. I needed to hear him admit to it. If I got the proof I needed, I would finally get front page.

I could see it. My name finally written in bold print, instead of italic. I smiled hugely as I heard large footsteps approach my desk. "Swan!" John called. "Yes?"

"These articles your writing about Mansen are good and all, but I think you need to bring it up a notch." he said, blowing on his cigar nonchalantly. "I was just thinking the same thing. But he refuses to talk to the press. How do I get to him?" He scratched his beard slowly. "Don't call yourself press. Befriend him," a creepy smile spread across his face that exposed his plaque ridden teeth. "Get close to him so that he trusts you. Then, you can get the truth out of him."

"I…I don't know if I can lie like that." The truth was, I _knew _I couldn't lie like that. Whenever a lie left my mouth it was always followed by the guilty blush soon after. "Well you better learn how. You got a month." He began to turn on his heal and I began to panic. "Wait! What if I cant?"

"Then pack up your desk." And with that, he turned away casually as if he'd never threatened my job at all. I put my head in my hands helplessly. Jacob, my best friend in the entire world, poked his head over into my cubicle and sighed. "Don't take the threat of unemployment seriously."

"How can I not, Jake?" I picked up my stapler and began to staple papers angrily. "Bells, just do what he says. Use your feminine wiles!" I laughed silently. "Feminine wiles, you say?" I said, wiggling my eyebrows. Jacob simply smiled. "But, what if he kills me too?" Jacob's smile suddenly faded. "I mean, what if I'm the next victim?"

"Your just being paranoid. You don't even know if he killed her." I shook my head impatiently. How could he not see the evidence?

"Jacob, his wife is shot in their home and he has no alibi to where he was. C'mon! How obvious could he be?" It all made sense to me, but Jacob wasn't so convinced. "Bella, I'll go with you. But after you get in, your on your own." I nodded. I felt my heart begin to hammer against my ribcage and I shuddered. Would I be Edward Mansen's next victim?

What if I went in to get front page news, and _became _front page news?

_A/n: Please review and tell a friend_


	2. Chapter 2

_Was anybody else irritated as to why it took me so long to update this? I know I was…BTW if you've forgotten what's already been stated, you mite want to go back and read the first chapter. It's very short but says a lot. I'm pretty sure a lot of you forgot what happened because I certainly did….I had to read it again too._

**Bella.**

_4 am. _

I'd been sitting outside of Edward Cullen's massive mansion since 8:30, with Jacob at my side snoring my ear off. "Jake!" I hissed pushing him awake. His eyes began to flutter and he looked at me blankly. His light brown skin was flush from his flustered sleep and I was sorry that I'd woken him.

"What?" he asked his voice still thick with sleep.

"The press is _finally _starting to clear out. We should make our move now." Jacob looked at me skeptically and laughed.

"At 4 am, Bells? 4 am?" He shook his head distastefully and laughed again. My eyes shot daggers at his nonchalant attitude towards this situation but I understood what he meant. I couldn't just walk into Edward Cullen's house at 4 in the morning. That is, assuming his massive guards would let me. My palms were sticky with a thin sheen of sweat and my face was flush with anxiety.

"Look, it's now or never. You coming or not?" I asked, trying to work up all the nerve I could muster.

"Uh….I'm going with not." I threw him a pleading glance but he just shook his head faster. "Bells, I told you last week. I'm not going in that house." I sighed in defeat and stepped out of the car.

"At least walk me in?" I bit my lip softly, anticipating his answer. I needed him with me so badly. When I wrote the articles on Edward Cullen it was easy to accuse him of murder. Damn near fun. But I realized that I was hidden behind my ink and now it was time to use the words from my mouth. I ran over John's words one last time as I approached the vine encased gates in front of the Cullen Mansion. '_Befriend him. Get him to trust you.'_

"Alright. I'll walk you in." Jacob agreed opening up his door.

"Suck it up, Swan." I murmured to myself as I reached the dreaded gate that stood several feet above me. There was a button to buzz and I pushed it heavily. The seconds it took for a voice to return over the speaker box felt like an eternity.

" If this is a reporter, your wasting your time." Said a velvet voice. It was a mans voice, sweet and yet some how rough, but with a sexy undertone. Jacob nudged my shoulder and I pushed the button and began to speak.

"I…I'm not a reporter. I'm your…..cousin." The words were out before I could stop them. Jacob looked at me skeptically and frowned. The velvet voice returned moments later.

"My cousin? From where?"

My mind was racing so fast that I couldn't even blink. "From…..Kansas. I have some bad news. I'd rather not disclose it over the intercom. May I come in?" There was a long pause. I was sincerely hoping that he bought my lie, but I supposed I'd have to wait for his response.

"Please come in." He whispered, intensely.

"I'll see you later, Bells." Jacob whispered and then retreated with my only form of transportation. I sighed as a large man approached the only gates that were between me and the cold blooded murderer behind them.

I walked into the spacious mansion and let out a gasp. It was absolutely magnificent. The floor was a light gray marble which shined brighter than the stars. There was a dramatic old time movie staircase that led down into the forayer and a multi colored canvas that lingered on the left wall. "Wow." I murmured without even thinking it. Then I heard the sound of some one clearing their throat and I looked up startled.

A breathtaking man with pale skin and shocking green eyes descended from the stairs only dressed in running shorts and a thin white t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. He was beautiful. He was gorgeous. He was Edward Cullen.

"Forgive me. But I don't seem to recognize you."

So beautiful. My mouth felt dry. It took me a few minutes to process the words that just left his full lips but I finally managed it. "I'm not your cousin." I confessed. His face went from shocked, to hurt, to started, to completely un-amused. He turned briefly to a button on a wall and I had a strong feeling that I was about to be carried out.

"Wait!" I cried out suddenly. His finger stalled momentarily as he eyed me cautiously. "I was a friend of your Great Aunt." Edward turned to me fully and frowned.

"Was?" He questioned, noticing my use of past tense.

"Yes. She died a few days ago….cancer, I'm afraid." The lies were just spilling from my mouth before I could catch them.

"Cancer?" His voice was hurt but his eyes remained detached. "I never met my Great Aunt. Would you like to come in and sit down?" I nodded.

I followed him into a lavish dinning area and sat down at the tan glossy wood table that laid before me.

"I'm sorry. I never caught your name, Miss?"

"Oh. It's Isabe-" I was stopped short as I read the newspapers that littered the glossy table top.

_Crazed Millionaire on the Prowl_

_The Money Crazed Savage_

_Murder In The Hamptons…._

All titles of the articles I'd written accusing Edward Cullen of murder.

He seemed to notice my distraction and spoke on it. "All of these were written by some ghastly woman by the name of Isabella Swan. I don't know why she attacks me so horridly," his voice dropped down to a menacing whisper, "Lets forget about her though. You were telling me your name?"

I smiled shyly as my heart hammered behind my ribcage.

"My name, right. My name is….Bella Strong."

These lies were becoming too easy.

_Hope you liked._


	3. Chapter 3

**Bella.**

"Bella Strong? What a peculiar name." His emerald eyes glistened in wonder as he stared at me.

"I get that a lot." I lied, chewing on my bottom lip. There was something in the pit of my stomach that unnerved me as I looked into his eyes, I felt awful for lying to him. I mean, what had he done to me? _He did kill his wife stupid, _I thought.

"Well, you said you had news about my Great Aunt…?" he questioned, he scorching eyes sad.

"Yes. Um…she died about 3 days ago, but it was a peaceful passing. Not much pain at all." I decided that using the story about _my _grandmother would suffice for this lie, which judging by his reaction, was working just fine.

"What type of cancer? How long did she have it?" His voice dropped down to just a murmur, "You must forgive me, I never met my Great Aunt or many of my other relatives. I'm curious about her life." I nodded sympathetically.

"She was a good woman. She loved to cook, and she was a hell of a singer." My grandmother just seemed to be the perfect woman to use for this situation, but in a way I felt bad about it. I mean, shouldn't I have some respect for the dead? Shouldn't I have left her story alone and told this man the truth? Once the dead die do they loose all right to the publication of their lives? And if that wasn't the case, then what about Kelsey Mansen?

And as I pondered over her, a new thought bubbled to my lips. "Why do some people call you Edward Mansen, and some Cullen?" He smiled briefly and sighed.

"Well, Mansen was my mothers maiden name and Cullen my father's. I couldn't part with them both."

"That's interesting. Tell me about your parents." He looked at me quizzically.

"I think I was the one asking questions." He smiled briefly. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were a reporter," he paused for a moment and eyed me skeptically, "What exactly is it that you do for a living?"

I was stumped. But then I thought about my cousin Carla and decided to go with her story. "I'm a waitress. I worked at the diner down the street from your Aunt's home." Yea. That worked. Edward's eyes seemed to dilate further.

"Could you tell me more about her? Where are you staying?" He asked. And that's when I realized that this was my opportunity. This was my chance to get what I'd been aiming for. I looked down at the small carry-on bag near my side and sighed.

"Well, I am awfully tired. And I'm afraid I have no place to stay. The diner where I worked was closed down just a while after your Aunt's death. And I would love to tell you more about her, but maybe later on when I've gotten some rest?" He nodded.

"Well, I wouldn't mind at all if you stayed in my guest room." He offered, his eyes glittering.

"I wouldn't want to impose." I whispered, shrugging my shoulders and looking away. If I could play the sympathy card with him, maybe I could stay. And if I stayed, then getting him to trust me would be easier than I could have ever imagined. I'd be inside his _home. His domain._

The actual place where the murder took place. But _only _if I was allowed to stay.

"You wouldn't impose in the slightest," he assured me, "Besides, its been a while since I've had a real person to talk to. The only people who want to talk to me now are reporters." I looked away from his trusting stare then, for I was afraid of the guilt he'd see there. "My," he murmured, "your blush is very beautiful." And at that compliment, I blushed ten shades darker.

"Thank you. And not just for the compliment. For allowing me to be your guest. I'm honored." He smiled at me again and I swear my heart skipped two beats.

"Well, Ms. Bella Strong, I am utterly honored to have you as my guest." I smiled, but this time, it was effortless, more natural. "If you'll excuse me, I must be out for my morning jog. But when I return, and you have had your rest, may we revisit the subject of my Great Aunt…?" he questioned, his eyes expectant.

I nodded. "Of course we can, Mr. Mansen." He had begun to walk towards the front door when he stopped suddenly in his tracks.

"Please, call me Edward." I blushed a deep red.

"Of course,.._Edward." _He smiled at me then and proceeded to jog towards the door. And as hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes away from his firm butt as he went.

_Please review….and tell a friend._


	4. Chapter 4

**Bella.**

What to do, what to do? I drummed my fingers over Edward Cullen's glossy table top, my mind drifting. Now that I was here, what did I intend to _do_? I mean, he seemed friendly enough, but would he mind if I …_snooped?_ I stood from my chair and grabbed up my carry on bag. I don't know why, but I felt the need to check my surroundings before I proceeded up the grand staircase. So, I looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and after seeing it was, I ran up the stairs.

His hallways were much like the forayer, the grayish marble glinting in the early sunlight. I tip toed through his hallway until I came to a huge formal door. It was wooden with two handles, each curled at their ends. I took a shaky hand to one knob and as I felt the cool texture on my skin, I hesitated.

What would I find beyond this door? I felt the fear well up inside me, and then I remembered I needed proof for my story. I put a small amount a pressure on my hand and realized with a sigh that the door was locked. I jiggled the lock in frustration and backed away from the door and hit something rigid.

"Oh!" I yelped, turning around to see a man in a formal black suit.

" 'Oh!' is right," said a middle aged man with a thick British accent. "Master Cullen keeps this door locked at all times." He looked down at me sternly.

"I…I'm sorry. Its just, I was told I could stay for a while, I thought this was the guest room," I lied. The man's tawny eyes appraised me slowly.

"What is your name, my dear?" He asked, his voice somber.

"Bella Swa- Black. Bella Black, sir." I murmured, trying to cover my mistake. His stare was a cold and cruel one, so I looked away. And that's when a small ray of sunshine gleamed from the silver tray at his side. He was the butler.

"Ah. I see you've noticed my tray. I am the butler of this manner, but let me assure you," he pointed a glove covered finger at me, "that I am watching you. Ms. Black." I nodded and swallowed loudly.

"Allow me to show you to your room." He turned on his heel and proceeded down the hall. For a while, I followed silently.

But just as he began to turn a corner, I noticed a door was slightly ajar. I looked ahead at the butler, and then skipped into the open room. It was beautiful. A huge Victorian style bed sat in the middle of the room, the edges and head board a rich wooden brown. The carpet was a dull white that squished beneath my feet. Paintings and Mosaics littered the wall creating a beautiful contrast.

I tip toed over to the dresser beside the bed and looked down at the 3 wooden drawers. I opened the first and all that was in it was some blank papers and pens. Sighing, I opened the second one to find a small blue book. I picked it up and rubbed my fingers tenderly across it. It had a velvet outer cover. Pulling back the cover page, I began to read.

_**Dear Diary,**_

_**My dear Kelsey. She is dead. And I haven't an iota of grief, in fact…**_

"AHEM." Someone cleared their throat behind me and I froze. I dropped the book in my hands and slammed the drawer shut. I closed my eyes and then looked down sheepishly.

Caught. By the butler.

"I don't believe Master Cullen will approve of you snooping through his things." I chewed on the inside of my cheek nervously.

"I'm sorry. I was looking for a piece of paper and pen." I lied, my cheeks inflaming as I spoke.

"Then why not simply ask for one…?" He raised a gray eyebrow at me. And for this question, I had no answer.

"And while we're on the subject," he said, circling me slowly, "what would this paper be intended for?" Stumped. Again. I let out a huge sigh.

"So, your going to rat me out?" A cruel smile crept across his face. He laid his tray down gently on the bed and looked my directly in my eyes. His eyes where a dull gray with a slight glint in them, indicating he knew something I was un aware of.

"No, I'm not. I'm sad to say I find you rather intriguing Ms. Black," he turned on his heel and walked to the door, "however, I cannot excuse another incident like this one again." He scurried out of the door and I followed behind.

"I didn't catch your name." I murmured, quickening my pace.

"Jasper. But, you may call me Mr. Whitlock." He smiled. It was the most lively he'd seemed since I'd met him.

As we walked leisurely down the long hall my mind began to drift back to the blue velvet covered book and the words I'd seen written within it. I mean, wasn't this the lead I'd been waiting for? And if the book was all the way back down the hall, why was I retreating from it? I ran over the words written in my head once again. Such awful hand writing Edward had. It surprised me.

Soon the silence became awkward for me and I spoke softly.

"So, Mr. Whitlock what secrets are hiding here in Cullen Manner?" I whispered, eyeing him from the side.

"I'm afraid, my dear Bella that some secrets are worth dying for." And as Mr. Whitlock mumbled those fateful words, I no longer suspected Edward Cullen of murder.

_Please review! Kind of a filler, but setting up for the huge twist yet to come!._


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